Acceptance: A Poem

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Hey guys, here’s a new poem I wrote, hope you like it:

 

Acceptance: by Seth Dombach

Acceptance is a foreign word
Most men find hard to take
Understanding is another word
That cause men’s hearts to break

The dream of peace is just a dream
We wish we stayed asleep
We reach to find the memory
But lose it in the deep

We seem to kill each other
O’er the slightest little thing
Deep down we know the song of life
We just refuse to sing

Are we not unlike a parasite
That feeds upon it’s host?
We eat up all that’s beautiful
Our trash will be our ghost

And when the last of us breathes no more
Will the Earth reclaim it’s place?
And soon the plants will cover us
The soil; the human race

Love is just a funny word
Taken lightly by the men
But Death will be the final word
For us, but not for them

We Can Be Heroes: Survivors of Sexual Abuse

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First off, I need to give a little back-story in regards to this post. The other day, a site online posted something started by someone else in regards to the issue of survivors of sexual abuse. This site did not ask the permission of the person who had originally brought up the question, using her picture and those of the ones who had responded.

Though the writer who reposted these things may have posted this with good intentions, it was also careless to do so without the consent of the original person. Not only because they didn’t ask for permission, but this then caused many of the women who had been brave enough to open up in the first place to become concerned that their story would be put out to the world in a larger format without their permission. Another reason that this was detrimental was that people had started commenting really rude things to those survivors and trying to place the blame on the victims or to justify what had happened to them without understanding the larger issue.

Why this goes against the cause so much is this: those who have been victims of sexual abuse have a hard enough time being open about their experience in the first place. It is not something that just comes up in casual conversation. Sometimes it doesn’t come up at all. People who have suffered this kind of abuse do not need another reason to feel scared to tell their story. I know this because I suffered from sexual abuse for years as a child. I will not go into details about what happened to me because the details of the abuse are not as important as what comes from the abuse. The worst part of sexual abuse is not the actual action that occurs but the years of pain that come after it.

I can only speak from my experience but I would gather that many people who have gone through this kind of abuse could relate. I spent most of the years before I opened up about it by wearing a mask. I put on a smile and a happy attitude because I was terrified. I was terrified that anyone would get close to me, that anyone would see through the façade and see the real me. The one who was ashamed. The one who was scared. The one who felt dirty, and wrong, and unable to feel that anyone could accept me. The best example for what it felt like was truly putting up a wall. Each time I said ‘I’m fine’ I placed another brick down. Every time I hid my pain from others, I built it bigger and bigger. Eventually, that boundary was so large and hardened, that it just became a part of me. Something I would not allow to be torn down. Even the people closest to me had no idea. I never felt I could trust anyone with that secret. I did whatever I could to numb the pain, and push it so far down into the recesses of my being, that I could keep it like a monster in a cage.

But I was only good at keeping the monster from others, it would still find a way to speak to me from the darkness. To scratch it’s long claws at my self-worth. It caused me to harm myself, to hate myself, to want to end my life before anyone could ever figure out what was wrong. Once I ate most of a bottle of pills and another time sat on my parent’s bed with my father’s handgun in my mouth, and at this point I wasn’t even old enough to get a driver’s permit. This is what fear can do. This is what pain can do.

I continued to live this way for many years, up into my adulthood. Finally I knew that I had to make a change to my life or things would never get better. Though it was the hardest step, it was also the most liberating, and I was able to tell a few close friends and family about it. Just saying the words were able to make cracks in that wall I had built. It wasn’t like opening a flood gate and everything was magically cured, but it was a start. It was a new beginning.

And that is not to say I am fully healed now. I am in the best place I’ve been in my life. I’m able to be open and honest with not only myself but others. But it took time. It took work. It took making changes that I never thought possible. Every once and a while the hurt will resurface and to this day it is still very hard for me to have physical contact with other people whether it is a handshake or a hug, but the way I deal with things is different now. I made a decision and I’ve stuck to that.

The biggest decision was that I would no longer let my abuser hold it over me. You see the actual abuse may go away, but what they have done can still permeate every faction of your life. And I was tired of it. Tired of letting that make me feel like I was a bad person, or unloved, unworthy, or wrong. The person who did it to me did not deserve to have that kind of power over me anymore. I had to make the choice to rise above it. I did not want to just be the victim, I wanted to be the survivor, the hero, the one who overcame it.

The other day after all this went down on Twitter, I had posted some of my thoughts to those who were survivors. And this got a huge response from many people. Some of them reached out to me personally, some thanked me for what I had said. I was not looking for any kind of praise or something like that, but felt I needed to say what I’ve been feeling for so long now.

This brings me to the point of this post. Myself and many others have been brave enough to share their stories. But for everyone of us who have, there are so many others who have not, who cannot yet express themselves because of that fear. But sometimes all it takes are words. There are power in our words. Words of understanding and courage can mean the difference. Sometimes we just need to hear them to get the courage to stand up. And that is what brings me to the title of this post. That we can be heroes. We are survivors, but we can be a hero to someone else. Someone at this moment is struggling with the hurt and unable to speak that, but a hero can come at the right time for them by just being brave enough to speak out.

Yes, there are those that will try and justify something as horrible as rape. This comes from ignorance, from not understanding. But we need to stand strong together to pass those comments on. Those people who feel the need to speak that way do not get to hold anything over those of us who are stronger. We should not be made to feel like we are wrong all over again. Our stories are worthy, we are stronger than this.

I do not claim to have any definitive knowledge of how to change the world. I can’t write a self-help book, and I don’t have any answers other than what has been true to myself. But I believe that we need to stand together, to lean on each other for support, and continue to push forward in our healing. The road is hard, but it is worth taking. We need to take back our lives and know we are stronger for what we’ve been through. We did not deserve what happened to us, but we can use it to break free and be who we truly are. We are survivors and we can be heroes. We can make a change in this world, bring light to something that affects so many people, those who can speak on it, and those who can’t. No woman or man should feel afraid or ashamed, they should be held up and helped, and seen for the bravery they have inside.

To those who have not had the ability to speak up, I hope you know that you are worth more than what happened to you. Though you may not feel it now, you have the power in you to break free from the pain and hurt that was given to you. This life is not easy and you can’t heal in a day, but you should not be ashamed of yourself. The only ones who should feel that are the ones who caused you to feel this way, the ones who did this to you. Just by going on day by day, you are braver and stronger than they will ever be.

We can all be heroes to someone. Let’s start today.

The Doing

So. I have been off the blogging grid for quite some time now. Part of it has been dealing with the hectic quality of life itself. Another hand has been thinking where I want to take this platform. I’ve also been working on writing a book. But I’ve made enough excuses now and it is time to truly get back to this.
I’ve decided to drop doing film reviews. It was fun while it lasted, but there are also a thousand (actually a lot more) blogs and sites dedicated to writing about film. As much as I love it, I don’t think my ‘writing voice’ will be served by adding in my two cents. Someone else has probably already said it and said it better than I can. I feel like my take on it will get lost in the void and really writing film reviews is not what I want to use my abilities for. I think it has its place and can be quiet grand, but for me I no longer have the heart to write about film.
What I really want to focus on are the things that are more pressing on my mind. And that is life. Not just a mundane rundown of what I have done or seen, because no one wants to read that. I’m talking about the deeper parts of life. Things that are more pressing that an Instagram photo of the bagel I ate for breakfast (I lied about the bagel, I hardly ever eat them).
Over the past series of Earth rotations, I’ve had some fundamentally big changes in the way I view life and it’s many intricacies. Part of it stemming from opening my worldview from beyond the normal day to day activities and trying to look at things in a new perspective. It may sound trite, but I think it is also partly true, that a lot of this has come from turning 30. Though it was not some astronomical shift that occurred at 12am on Nov 4th 2013, but just the realization that I’m exciting one stage in my life and moving on to another. The male life expectancy in the United States is currently standing at 77. Now, given you can go at any time, but should I be one of those lucky enough to get to or above that mark, I have already met one-third of my life. While 77 years may seem like a long run, it is also vastly and horrifyingly short. And the adage that life goes by too fast is quickly becoming a constant reminder.
I do not have any sort of delusions of grandeur that my writing is so important that millions will want to read it or be changed or challenged by something I say. Yet, my own personal goals are not being met due to my own doing.
There is something so frightening about the ‘doing’. The idea and the thought can be so uplifting and powerful. You can get a high off of your own ideas, until you get down to actually putting it out there. Sometimes I’ve started something, gotten pages into it, and quit. Maybe not all of them were good, but the self-doubt strikes with a heavy blade. It is by no fault of anyone that I’ve given up. But what I’ve done was continued to make excuses to myself as to why I didn’t finish, just like those same excuses at the start of this post. I’m not worried about being judged and frankly some of the best learning comes from those who don’t know you and can be brutally honest. When everyone agrees with you, you become complacent, but those who take you to task make you push harder to do better.
This brings us back to the shift. I want to focus more on the doing. It is not all going to be good (I am not a great writer, but I feel I have some talent for it), but it needs to be something. My life has already flown by and looking back now, it seems that it has disappeared behind me like the road in your taillights on a dark stretch of highway. I do not like to live with regret and I do not want to look back and think ‘If only I would have done…’ I will succeed by doing it; my reward will be the one I give to myself.

I’m not dead

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Hey guys and gals, just wanted to let you know that I haven’t shuffled off this mortal coil yet. I’ve just been lazy. I need to get back into it again! Hope everyone is well and look for some new content soon.

On Fall Mornings

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Poem and Photo by Kloipy (Seth Dombach)

It has been far too long

On rambling days when the heat makes the sweat roll like rain

And long hot nights spread out forever

But now the mornings come with a crisp reminder

That change is coming soon

The cool air that hits like a wave

Refreshing, rebuilding, and subtle in power

You stare just a bit more

At things that you would once give little pause to

Take a sunrise

One that normally would pass you by

Now its intensity beckons you

You wrap your arms around you

Holding on to the warmth inside

As you watch the growth of another day

The smell of the season is on the air

Under your feet leaves crunch and swish

It may be the color that draws you in

But it is something else, something deeper

That unnamed feeling of self-interest

Providing insight into eternity

Understanding that though we are not physically immortal

We do live on

We go back and give back and are breathed throughout time

The Hate and the Love: an essay

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Allow me to stand on a soap box for a moment: This may be long but I feel it needs to be said:
Robert Belton; a WW2 vet was brutally beaten to death by two teenagers the other night. The news has made a point to headline the news with telling that the teens who killed this man were black. Not just the horrible news that a man was murdered, but that his killers were of a specific race, as if that fact had to be made a point of. Now, people are outraged that this story has been supposedly hidden by the media because Belton was white. They are using the example of Trayvon Martin to prove this supposed bias.

You know what outrages me? The fact that EVERY SINGLE DAY I see that someone was brutally murdered, or someone was raped, or some other horrible news. Just today I saw a picture on the news of a Syrian mother holding her dead child in her arms who had been killed by chemical weapons. I’m outraged by US as a world.

It is 2013. In a few days it will be 50 years since Martin Luther King’s ‘I have a dream’ speech. How much have we let the dream of King’s die? Again, it is 2013 and we STILL are holding on to hatred of someone because of their skin color or the region they were born. As a society we continue to bridge the gap between us. I did not ask to be born white. No one asks to be born the way they are. We are all just born. Born into this world, and at the deepest level, we are all just pretending that we have any idea why we are here or what if anything this life means.

And with that said, we only have a SHORT time on this planet. We are all going to die and become a distant memory in what is nothing but a blink of an eye of the time of this universe. And to this day we hang on to this hatred, greed, and destruction. We should be outraged by the fact that anyone would take someone’s life, not because they are white or black, but because it is abhorrent to kill someone. Why add the fuel of hatred to an issue that is a problem of society instead of working to fix it?

Prejudice and bigotry come from a lack of education and an unwillingness to understand someone who is different from themselves. It is a learned behavior! And to continue these ideas it perpetuate this same hatred on generation after generation. If we would expend half the energy we put into being outraged into actually fixing the problem, we could change the world. But instead of that we continue to cycle it on and on.

Martin Luther King’s dream has not died, but it has been sorely forgotten. You can call me idealistic to believe we can live in a world that can let go of this hatred and prejudice, but as far as ideals go, why isn’t this something we can aspire to be? We’ve evolved as a species, we’ve invented amazing things, and when things go badly we can rally together to help each other. Why can’t we live this way each day? If we take the time to love each other a little more, understand each other a little more, we could make this a better place. Not only for ourselves, but for our children, and those generations on past us.

Changes Here and a New Site There

Hey guys! Just wanted to first let you know I’m not dead and I’ll have some new stuff posted here soon. I’ve been trying to focus more on writing and feel bad that I haven’t had much content up lately.

This site is going to be going through some changes. I’ve decided to stop posting some content here. Mostly my photography, music, or pretty much anything relating to film reviews. I want this site to be more about short stories, poetry, essays, the Kloipy Projects (a new one is coming soon), and more of that sort of content.

With that being said I will continue to post my photography, but from now on I will be doing it under my own name on a brand new site. It is called (you can click the link to go over there)

Seth Dombach Photography

I still love this site and will continue to keep it updated regularly with what I consider much more meaningful content, but I want it to be more streamlined in regards to where my passions lie.

As always, I love having the visitors here, along with all the friends I’ve made from this webpage. I hope you continue to enjoy reading what I have to write as much as I enjoy making it.